I will no longer snark on shoppy moms.
Not that I really did before. But I swear I'll NEVER do it now.
I’ve never been a big shopper. With the exception of a few middle school years during which going to ~the mall~ was the height of coolness and socializing and a few more later on when I was soaking in the novelty of having my own hard-earned money to burn, I’ve spent a lot of my life avoiding shopping trips. Maybe it’s my weird hang-ups about spending or my history of body dysmorphia that makes a fitting room an especially inhospitable place—in any case, I seem to have not inherited the love-to-shop gene that runs strong among other women in my family.
The rise of online shopping has, naturally, turned these tides a bit. With a little help from our favorite e-tailers (including—however shamefully—the Big Guys that I love to hate, hate to love, and do attempt to only patronize when there aren’t other options) I can enjoy all the upsides of shopping without the time, inconvenience, financial temptations, and unflattering fluorescent lights of an IRL store-crawl. Still, for me, shopping—whether online or in-person—has almost always been more of a transaction than an experience. I know what I want or need, I know what version of that thing I like and how much I’m willing to spend for it, and I make it happen. In and out. Browse and purchase. Move on.
In the three weeks since I became a mom, that’s started to change.
In the three weeks since I became a mom, I’m beginning to understand why the “shoppy mom” has become a stereotype to poke fun at in various corners of pop culture and media… and why it’s also a very real thing.
To be clear, I haven’t personally made a habit of snarking on moms who love to shop. Because shopping hasn’t ever been my thing, I have, on occasion, been known to roll my eyes or express my lack of comprehension about The Shopper and The Shopping Mindset more generally—but one’s status as a parent or non-parent has never had any bearing. If you love to shop, shop! And if you love to mom, mom! Shop and mom, mom and shop.
Still, we’ve all been exposed to the kinds of teasing and representation that I’m talking about. We’ve heard the gross “bitches be shopping jokes” and seen the SNL sketches. We’ve double-tapped on the memes about the mom community’s love for Target runs. We’ve probably even had to stifle a laugh at least a time or two about our own mothers and their accounts of retail therapy.
These depictions are rooted in facts and figures. A quick Google search will tell you that moms have an extraordinary amount of buying power here in the U.S. One 2017 article in Forbes notes that mothers control 85% of household purchases in this country, which equates to roughly $2.4 trillion. I don’t have to tell you that this is big business.
In college, I took an American Studies class that traced the history of women, consumerism, advertising, and the economy. It was one of my favorite courses and—had I taken it a few semesters earlier—may have been the thing that pushed me to switch my major! I was totally fascinated by the evolution of corporate messaging to wives and mothers, in particular. Buy this item and you’ll be more patient with your kids! Buy that item and your husband will be less annoying! Buy all of it and your house will be shinier and your life better! If you want to know why women have been pigeonholed as the shoppers of society, look no further than the advertising campaigns of the last century. It’s no wonder the shoppy mom has become a cliche and even a joke.
I always figured it couldn’t be me, but I’m here to tell you that it kind of is me.
Currently Reading: Sorry, Bro by Taleen Voskuni
This book has been on my TBR since a podcast guest recommended it to me months ago—and it’s only moved higher on the list as listeners have echoed their love for it and as I’ve had the chance to get to know author Taleen Voskuni, who also appeared on the pod. I’ve been on a bit of an ~epic fantasy~ kick—which is way beyond my typical comfort zone—as part of my post-baby reading, but I’m thrilled to share that I finally started Sorry, Bro last night. I haven’t made a ton of progress so far, but I already have a good feeling about it.
In no particular order, here is a list of items that I have ordered since Will made his grand arrival. Please note that this list is far from comprehensive and includes only the purchases that I’ve made while up with him in the middle of the night, which means that I’ve been surprised to discover some of them on my doorstep in the following days:
Will’s first pair of baby jeans
What is essentially an industrial-sized carton of a very hard-to-find variety of cotton candy-flavored bubble gum that my sisters and I used to buy on family beach vacations
A large box of under-eye masks (very logical given the circumstances of their purchase)
A rollerball container of a perfume I’ve never smelled but that has been well-reviewed by several beauty magazines
Pre-ordered copies of a handful of books that won’t arrive until late spring or summer
Let the record show that I do not have any regrets about any of these purchases. Please also let the record show that I recognize the privilege inherent in being able to make them, no matter how delirious I was at the time. It’s all relative, and to some, I know this list might look totally indulgent, while others might laugh at the suggestion that it seems “wild.” By my standards, this snapshot of my recent purchasing history does lean a bit unhinged, more because of its random nature than its total price.
And while these adventures in online shopping have yielded hours of cotton candy gum chewing (don’t judge me!) and slightly less puffy under-eyes, they’ve done something bigger. They’ve made it very clear to me why—at the risk of sounding reductive or echoing those aforementioned (and disgusting) “bitches be shopping” jokes—many moms love to shop.
Of course moms love to shop.
I’m obviously very new to all of this, but if I’ve learned anything over these first few weeks, it’s that parenthood is essentially an endless game of selfless problem-solving that monumentally expands your capacity for love. I shared more about my experience with the latter part of that sentence in my account of my first week with Will—and I’m sure I’ll have plenty of other thoughts about it in the future—but for now, let’s focus on the “endless game of selfless problem-solving” of it all, shall we?
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